


It's Easy Being With You, Sacred Simplicity

by NiallsMafia



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Football, Blow Jobs, Fluff, Football Player Louis, Football | Soccer, Injury, M/M, Physiotherapist!Harry, Rimming, Side Ziall, Smut, Sports Injury, idk what else to tag this as, louis loves football maybe a little bit too much, there's a little bit of smut and a lot of fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-15
Updated: 2014-08-15
Packaged: 2018-02-13 05:28:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 17,560
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2138712
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NiallsMafia/pseuds/NiallsMafia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>“Woah, sorry, mate. Seems like that keeps happening, huh?” Louis teases as he continues to slowly walk backwards.</i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>“No problem, maybe pay attention next time. Things like this never happened at Manchester City, you know.” Harry’s grin is bright and humorous, his green eyes glinting.</i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>“Probably because no one there is motivated enough to actually run somewhere. Or practice at all, really.”</i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>“You’ve got a big mouth, Tomlinson.”<br/></i>
</p>
<p>[or the one where harry has terrible taste in football teams but is incredibly good at his job]</p>
            </blockquote>





	It's Easy Being With You, Sacred Simplicity

**Author's Note:**

  * For [blitztrigger](https://archiveofourown.org/users/blitztrigger/gifts).



> alright so i’m not incredibly knowledged about football teams in england, so everything in this fic came from either the internet or my knowledge of the sport itself. also, this is my first time writing smut so... yeah... sorry.
> 
> blitztrigger: i hope you like this! it was so fun to write and i loved every second of it! 
> 
> thanks to my betas, Grace & Drea, and my britpicker, Jess, for being amazing!
> 
> title is from rather be by clean bandit

Louis is on his way to the season kick-off party and he cannot be more excited. Ever since he was signed to play for Manchester United he’s been on an all time high. The break between seasons was short, but Louis still felt useless when he wasn’t playing football.

He’d only been on the team for a year and it already felt like a new home. His teammates are great for the most part - there are still a few players that aren’t too keen on his sexuality but that’s none of their business anyway - and the members of the staff are brilliant.

Louis had grown especially close to one of the physical trainers, James, who had helped him stay fit throughout the season. James is very friendly, very attractive and also very married.

It had always been a dream of his to play on the team and he still can’t fathom it. The feel of the turf beneath his feet and the sound of the crowd cheering as he ran up and down the pitch is unbelievable. Not to mention his best mates are on the team, well, Zayn isn’t on the team but he shows up to every match. He claims he’s the team’s “biggest fan” but Louis knows he is really just Niall’s biggest fan.

So when he spots the three of them up against the wall at the far side of the room, chatting with a couple of people Louis doesn’t know, he idles up to the group and stands next to Liam.

“Louis! Hey! Glad you could come,” Liam pulls him into a tight hug that he was only half-expecting. “This is the new physiotherapist, Harry. Watch out though, you’ll never guess where he came from.”

(The old physiotherapist was fired the previous season for being a complete twat and not doing anything, let alone helping any players with injuries. Louis was internally happy that the guy left - especially after he made a snarky comment about Louis’ playing skills as well as Niall’s. No one talks shit about Niall. No one.)

Louis turns to the person Liam is referring to and finds a man with a blinding grin and dimples. He hadn’t really looked at him when he was walking towards them, but he was really starting to regret that. The guy is absolutely _adorable_.

“Hi mate, I’m Louis. Save me the hassle of trying to guess and tell me where you came from,” Louis smiles back at him as he shakes his hand.

“Hi Louis. Well, I didn’t think it was that big of an issue but now I’m starting to think I was wrong… I was the physiotherapist at Manchester City for two years - “

Before Harry could finish his sentence, Louis steps back from him and pretends to gag, holding his stomach with his left hand and wiping his right hand on his trousers.

“Oh no, guys, I think we better get away from him. He might have some infectious disease,” Louis teases. Niall starts to cackle at Harry’s embarrassed flush on his cheeks.

“I didn’t know! I didn’t - they’re crap anyway! I promise I don’t support them! It was just a job, honestly.” Harry attempts to defend himself, and they all laugh at his expense. _Poor kid,_ Louis thinks.

“It’s alright, Harry. As long as you know the truth.” Louis played along and patted his back as he began to step away. “I’m going to go get a drink, lads. I’ll be back.”

The trip to the bar takes three times as long as it normally would, Louis pausing to greet all of the new and old faces he came across.

The party is in full swing not even an hour later, the conference hall at the training ground packed full of team members and officials, as well as their spouses or girlfriends - or boyfriend in Niall’s case. It’s rather tame though, seeing as half of the people in attendance were over the age of thirty.

Louis makes sure to catch up with the friends he’d made on the team and talk with the few he’s seen since the season ended. He’s sitting at a table with Liam, Niall and Zayn when Harry reappeared.

“You wanna sit, mate? You’re welcome to join.” Liam waves him over. He’s sitting on the inside so he tugs Louis closer to him to make room for Harry to squeeze in. Harry seems to ponder it for a moment before sliding in next to Louis.

\- - -

People don’t start leaving until two hours later and Louis glances at the clock to see that it was already past midnight. He says goodbye to those leaving then decides he should probably head home as well. He plans to relax for one more day before training starts back up.

The team’s schedule was always hectic at first - the extra training sessions during the week is a lot to get used to after a slightly lighter workload over the summer.

Training on Monday is always easy, they start at three and end at five without much strain. Then, on Tuesday the team meets in the weight room to workout from three to five again, after a few drills in the morning. Wednesday is Louis’ favourite because they don’t have to do anything and he usually spends it playing video games with the boys. Thursday training gets harder, from noon to three-thirty - extra time for extra drills. Friday workouts are probably the worst, they start at ten in the morning and end right at noon but Louis is always drenched in sweat from those. They happen earlier in the day so that the players can “enjoy their weekends more” but Louis never feels like doing anything on Friday nights.

Despite the intensity of their training, Louis _loves_ playing on the team. He wouldn’t give it up for anything.

\- - -

Getting back into the swing of things is not easy, and Louis is keeled over and panting. He had been steadily working out during the break but the first _real_ practice is always a bit of a shock.

The burn feels nice though, shows him that this is actually doing _something_. Coach closes the practice with words of encouragement and sends them on their way to the changing room.

Louis makes it home early enough that he has time to watch a bit of telly after dinner. He settles into the sofa, the Friends theme song filling the room. Before the episode is over he’s sound asleep, curled up in a ball and tucked under a blanket.

\- - -

Louis could count the number of times he’s felt on top of the world on one hand. The first would be when he and his friends were on the playground in primary school, and Louis told them that he kissed a _girl_ yesterday. (It was his neighbour’s granddaughter and she had the biggest green eyes he’d ever seen.) His friends had looked at him as if he was the most fascinating person they’d ever seen.

The second time was when his little sister’s first word was “Louis”, although it came out more as “woo-wee” and he’d also spent a whole week chanting his name at her, trying to get her to say it back. It’s the thought that counts, really.

The third would be when he managed to make captain of his school’s football team, as well as the lead role in their production of “Grease” all in one week.

The fourth time he almost cried when he got the call that he’d been offered a position on Manchester United’s football team.

And the fifth would be at the first match of his second season on the team.

“Tomlinson, get out on the pitch and sort them out,” Coach mutters. Louis is up and running to the center line before he even finishes his sentence.

There is ten minutes before the whistle blows, and the match is tied at one-to-one. It is exhilarating and nerve-wracking all at once, knowing that thousands of people - in the stands and at home in their living rooms - are watching him run around the pitch.

One of the defenders of the opposing team rears back to clear the ball and just as his foot makes contact, Liam appears and taps it out just to the side of him. The crowd roars as Liam takes off towards the goal, Louis sprinting to keep up. He calls out to his teammate and runs a bit harder, now just inside of the goal box. Another defender steps up to challenge Liam, but before he can get close enough, Liam crosses the ball in front of the goal. It’s a perfect pass, really - which is what he would tell the press later on - and Louis kicks it straight into the back of the net. The screams are deafening, and the shock Louis feels keeps him in place.

Not even ten seconds later he is being grabbed and patted on the back - even a tap on his bum, which could only have come from Niall.

It seemed as though that was all their team needed to close it down for the last seven minutes, keeping the ball on the other side of the pitch. And when the final whistle blew, everyone went wild. He scored the match winning goal, setting their team off on the right foot. Louis’ chest feels like it’s going to explode, he is so proud of himself and his team. Out there on that pitch, surrounded by other people that share his dream and his love for football, Louis feels like he belongs.

\- - -

Louis is in the middle of drying off from his match shower when his coach calls for him in his office. He hurriedly redresses himself before hesitantly stepping into the office attached to the main locker room.

“Tomlinson, have a seat.” Coach waves his hand towards the two empty chairs by his desk. Louis lowers himself into one of them, feeling very nervous and uncomfortable. “It has come to my attention that you’ve been working very hard over the summer and the few weeks we’ve been back.”

Louis nods his head, confusion swarming his brain. “Yes sir, I always try to put my best effort into training.”

“I can see that. You were great out there today, and I’d like to offer you a more rewarding position of being a starting forward.” Coach leans closer and rests his elbows against the desk.

Louis’ heart speeds up and he can’t hold back the grin overtaking his lips. A starting position is something he’s been dreaming about ever since he was first signed. Rather than playing a lucky fifteen minutes a match at the most, he’d be guaranteed at least sixty of the ninety minutes. Most players didn’t get offered a spot like that until they’d been on the team for at least two years. He was honored, to say the least.

“Wow, that’s - that’s amazing. Thank you so much. I’d be extremely pleased to start.” Louis tells him as much.

“Well, then, it’s settled. Next match you’ll be first on the pitch. Now, go home and get some rest.”

And he was sent back out to the changing rooms.

The good thing is that after matches, there is no training the next day, no matter what the day is. It’s supposedly to allow the players to rest and recharge after a draining day of warming up and then playing their hearts out.

Louis packs up his bag and shuts and locks his locker before spinning around on his heel. He exits the changing room and pulls out his phone to find sixteen unread text messages, he assumes are from his friends and family that were watching the match from home.

He is reading the one from his mother - _I’m so proud of you Lou! You did so great! You better come home and see your old mum soon!! xx Love you!_ \- when he runs into something solid before flying backwards, and landing right on his bum on the tile floor.

“Woah, I’m so sorry I didn’t see you there,” the voice of the person is vaguely familiar and Louis glances up to find the new physio, Harry, standing over him with a hand held out.

“Congratulations on the goal by the way, you were great,” Harry compliments as he tugs Louis up off the ground.

“Bet you never saw anything like that back at that shithole you called a place of employment, huh?” Louis teases while he brushes off his tracksuit.

Harry frowns and narrows his eyes, dragging out his reply of “Hey,” looking greatly offended. However, the way the corners of his lips curl up is enough for Louis to decide that he isn’t feeling insulted in the slightest.

“Well, it’s been a long day so I better be off. Goodnight Harry.” Louis sidesteps Harry and makes his way out of the building. He only glances over his shoulder once to catch Harry’s eye as he walks away.

  
Louis calls his mother as soon as he gets home and plans to drive to Doncaster the following morning to visit for the day. Once that was all settled he made himself dinner and a glass of wine to celebrate.

\- - -

Louis pulls up to the driveway and puts the car in park. He takes a moment to relax in the seat as he looks up at the house he grew up in. If he had to pick one thing that corresponded with the word “home”, it would be this house. The way the paint is slightly chipped on the left side. The dent in the bottom corner of the garage door from when he’d accidentally kicked the soccer ball too hard. (He was grounded for two weeks because they didn’t have the money to fix it and he still feels bad about it now.) Even the uneven paving that everyone manages to trip over at least once.

The determining factor, however, would always be the people inside. As he climbs out of his Range Rover - with tinted windows that allow him to do whatever the hell he wanted in that sleek backseat - he could see the twins watching from their bedroom window upstairs. When he waves up at them, they take off, presumably running down the stairs with hollers of Louis’ arrival.

_This_ is where he is happy.

His mum greets him with many kisses and tight hugs that make him remember just how long it’s been since he’s been home. (Since Christmas, which if he didn’t feel like an arsehole before, then he definitely did now.) He hugs her back and promises that he’ll be back soon, way sooner than this trip was.

When he finally manages to get to the sofa - he had to drag Daisy and Phoebe across the floor since they refused to unlatch from his legs - he takes a quick look around, making sure that everything is in its rightful place. The only thing that has changed since he’d last been there is the amount of pictures on the wall. He can’t help but feel really proud when he sees the picture in the center of the wall is one of him in his Manchester United shirt, smiling big at the camera, sheer happiness clear in his eyes.

His mother insists on making a huge meal for dinner that night, especially since their lunch was made up of ice cream from the shop around the corner. (It was Daisy’s idea and Louis was never one to deny his sisters anything.)

“Louis, Mummy says you scored a goal yesterday, is that true?” Phoebe is sat beside him, looking up at him with those big blue eyes that seemed to run in the family.

“Yep, that’s most definitely true. I’m a proper footie player now, right?” Louis teases her. His family had only been to two matches last season and he didn’t play more than ten minutes between the two of them, so Phoebe is convinced that Louis lied and isn’t actually on the team.

“Lou, how’s the love life going?” Lottie asks from across the table. The joking grin on her face makes it apparent that she is actually making fun of him, rather than showing a genuine concern in his love life. Louis knows she's doing it for revenge because of how their mother reacts to talking about his relationships.

He rolls his eyes at her and continues eating, when his mother pipes up as well.

“Yeah Lou, what’s going on? Are you seeing anybody?”

“No mum, I’ve told you before, it’s too hard to see someone when I’m always at the training grounds or sleeping. I just don’t have the time right now.” Louis sighs, shrugging his shoulders. He doesn’t like talking about his romantic life - or lack thereof. He would love to have someone to cuddle up with late at night and kiss whenever and take out to dinner all the time, but it just isn’t realistic at this point.

Before Louis leaves his childhood home, he arranges to have his family at the next match (since he’d be starting after all) and another match later in the season (the Manchester City match because that would be the best match of the season by far).

\- - -

The following training sessions are grueling. Louis is soaked in sweat every time he walks back into the changing room. Of course, it is also abnormally hot outside but that’s supposed to pass in the next few days.

The next time he sees Harry is when he’s asked to grab some extra cones from the supply cupboard. He jogs inside and digs through the unorganized cupboard - _seriously_ , he says to himself, _someone needs to fix this, soon_. He’d been searching for a few minutes when he finally manages to come across a stack of bright orange cones.

Louis snatches up the cones and shuts the door, before he takes off back towards the training pitch, not wanting to take too long. However, on his way, he nearly collides with someone - that someone being Harry, obviously. Unlike the last time he ran into the boy, neither of them hit the ground, Harry stepping aside just barely in time.

“Woah, sorry, mate. Seems like that keeps happening, huh?” Louis teases as he continues to slowly walk backwards.

“No problem, maybe pay attention next time. Things like this never happened at Manchester City, you know.” Harry’s grin is bright and humorous, his green eyes glinting.

“Probably because no one there is motivated enough to actually _run_ somewhere. Or practise at all, really.”

“You’ve got a big mouth, Tomlinson.”

“So do you, but yours is better used for different reasons than mine.” Louis winks - _why the fuck would you_ wink _you idiot!_ \- before taking off towards the pitch again. He mentally punches himself the whole way there. And if he would have turned around he would have seen Harry standing completely still, jaw slack and eyes wide, watching on with what seemed to be slight horror and slight amusement.

\- - -

On the other hand, Louis could also recall the few times he’d felt he was at rock-bottom.

The first would be when he realised he was gay, and in turn, was terrified to tell anyone. It was a slowly-built realisation and every second he thought about it made him even more scared. It had all been okay in the end, his mother loved him no matter what, and he’d got himself all worked up for no reason.

The second was when he came out at school (if making out with a fit older bloke in the school corridor counted as coming out) and was attacked by his classmates - even some of his friends. They called him names for weeks and he’d felt awful. Especially since it went so well with his family, only to be called names and harassed by his peers for who he loved was even more disheartening. Eventually people stopped talking about it when Beth Fields and Mr. Cole were _caught engaging in inappropriate behavior_ by another teacher. It’s safe to say that if he ever saw either one of them again he would thank them profusely.

The third would be when his step-father, whom he recognized as his actual father, had left his family. He was angry for weeks, before that anger faded into a depressing state of rejection. It took him a long time to get over it, but when he did, he knew that he had all he’d ever need - his mum and his sisters. And football, of course.

The fourth would be his first match starting on the pitch. They’re playing against Liverpool, one of their major rivals, and the score is three-one to United. His family is up in the seats somewhere, which only adds to the pressure.

Louis is dribbling the ball up the pitch, a clear shot right in front of him, when a defender sneaks up from the side and swings at the ball. His ankle locks with Louis’ and, in turn, they both fall to the ground, legs tangled together. Louis squeezes his eyes shut as his body is slammed onto the turf. There are two bodies on top of his, one diagonally across his chest and another crushing his legs.

A sheer, hot, mind-boggling pain shoots up his leg and he screams out in agony. The two players on top of him fly off, startled by his outburst. Once his body is free, he rolls over and pulls his leg up underneath himself, curling into a ball. A string of colourful words flows out of his mouth as tears flow out of his eyes.

He’s never felt anything like it - not even when he fell off his best mate’s trampoline and broke his elbow. Louis can’t feel anything other than the pure torture that his leg is providing him. He soon feels the presence of other people around him and a gentle hand on his shoulder tugs him onto his back. He can’t make out their face through his tears, which, _come on Louis there are thousands of people watching you right now,_ but he can see the faint outline of big, brown hair.

Louis feels them carefully take off his boot, sock, and shin guard, before the person assesses the damage done to his leg. The pain was still there, but it was now in the back of his mind, the only thing he can see, feel, hear is _white_. Just blank, solid white.

The last thing he hears before it all starts to slowly fade to black is a deep, smooth voice saying “Hang in there Lou, I’ve got you.”

He knows that voice. He’d know it anywhere.

\- - -

When Louis wakes up he is in an ambulance. His head is throbbing from the beeping of the heart monitor and as he slowly regains his senses, he also feels that excruciating pain in his left leg. He winces and looks down to examine it and finds that it’s strapped up firmly in some kind of orange, blow-up, splint. He has no recollection of how he got into this fucking ambulance, the last thing he remembers is going down on the pitch.

Louis throws his head back against the pillow and rubs at his eyes. “What happened?” he grumbles.

“You hurt your leg in the match and then passed out from the pain. We’re on our way to the hospital now.” As soon as Louis hears that voice he looks to his side where Harry is sitting with two paramedics sitting next to him.

“Did we win? Am I going to be able to play again? Where’s my family?” Louis rambles off a string of questions, feeling slightly more panicked now that he processed the fact that _he’s in an ambulance_.

“The match is not quite over yet, but you guys were in the lead. I’m not sure exactly what the damage is, you’ve got to get x-rays first to find out if it’s broken or not. And your family is going to meet you at the hospital. Now, if that’s all, you should rest.” Harry speaks slowly and calmly so Louis can understand and he nods.

“Louis, on a scale of one to ten how bad is the pain right now?” one of the paramedics asks.

“Um, like a seven or eight maybe. Not as bad as when it happened but pretty bad.” Louis lets his eyes fall shut as he tries to focus on anything other than his leg. When his mind then starts to think about if he’ll ever be able to play football again or if he’ll even be out for the rest of the season, he nearly cries.

Not playing is not an option for him. He _has_ to play again. He just made the starting team for God’s sake.

Shortly after, they arrive at the hospital and he’s being wheeled in on a wheelchair. The good thing about being a professional football player is that he doesn’t even have to wait. They take him right into a room where he sees a doctor.

\- - -

Multiple x-rays later his family is finally let into the room. As the doctor is reviewing the x-rays, his family gets to fawn all over him. His leg is propped up so they have to stay off the bed, but it’s a good distraction. Harry is sitting in the corner of the room watching on with a small smile. Louis’ mum is infatuated after Harry introduces himself to her.

“Watch out mum, he came from City,” Louis jokes, laughing when his mother plays along and steps back from the man.

They’d been waiting for fifteen minutes for the doctor to come back when Louis tells Harry that he doesn’t have to stay and wait around on them.

“Actually, I do have to. I’m required to stay until we get a diagnosis and work out what happens next. But I’d like to stay a bit longer if that’s okay with you.” A bright blush appears on Harry’s cheeks after he discreetly tells Louis that he wants to make sure that he is okay. He might think he is playing it cool, but Louis knows.

Just then, the door clicks open and in walks Louis’ doctor.

“Mr. Tomlinson, these are your x-rays,” he says as he brings them up on a screen. “You’ve broken your ankle in two places, as well as a hairline fracture in your foot. We’re going to go ahead and do immediate surgery to set them and then we’ll get you in a cast after that. As for your football career, healing can take up to six or seven months depending on you, really. We can discuss more details later, we need to perform the surgery as soon as possible.”

Louis feels his stomach drop at that. He cannot be out for the rest of the season. No way. He can feel the anger bubbling in his stomach as well as the dread and disappointment.

The doctor turns toward his family, “You are welcome to stay and wait here or we could give you a call when the surgery is finished.”

And with that, Louis is being wheeled out of the room, without a chance to say anything.

\- - -

When Louis wakes up after surgery, he is in less pain than he was the first time he woke up. His foot is also in a cast and he is hooked up to an IV drip. After surveying the room, he notices that Harry is the only one in there, and he’s dead asleep. However, his throat is dry and he needs something to drink.

“Harry,” he tries to wake him by calling for him, but to no avail. “Harry!” he tries again, louder this time.

The boy startles awake before looking to Louis’ bed. He is up in an instant.

“Hey, you’re awake. Are you feeling alright? Can I get you anything?”

“Some water, please. Also where is my mum? Did she leave?”

“No, she didn’t. She took the girls downstairs to get something to eat and drink. They were getting a bit restless. I’ll go grab you a water and let them know you’re awake.” Harry smiles at him before heading out of the room, the door clicking shut behind him.

\- - -

Louis is finally released to go home a few hours later, with a pair of crutches and a wheelchair to take with him. He has an appointment in two weeks to check up on everything.

He decides to go home with his mum so she can care for him while he tries to get used to not being able to walk. Since Harry came in the ambulance, he doesn’t have his car, so he climbs into the car as well and they drive him back to the stadium.

Louis arranges for Zayn to pick up his car from the stadium the next day and take it back to his house for him. Before they leave for his mum’s house he stops at his to pick up some things. Not even ten minutes into the drive he’s sound asleep.

\- - -

He stays with his mum for four days. It’s nice having someone cook and clean up after him for once. However, there is zero privacy in that house.

So when he finally gets home, he sighs in relief. He will have to fend for himself, but at least he doesn’t have to worry about someone walking in on him trying to have a bath with one leg out of the water.

After a quick nap and a light lunch, he calls Zayn and convinces him to drive him to the training grounds. Training isn’t going to start for at least another hour.

When he arrives, he goes straight to the coach’s office. He knocks on the door before Coach calls him in.

“Hey Tomlinson, glad to see you up-right. How are you feeling?” Coach helps him settle into a chair and sets his crutches to the side.

“I’m a lot better, actually. A bit restless. I want to get back out on the pitch as soon as possible.”

“Well, you are going to be out for quite a while, and if you’re lucky you might be able to play in the last few regular season matches. But don’t worry about your position, it will still be there when you get better. I, as well as the rest of the team, want you to be fully healed before you even think about playing again. Your health and safety come first, Louis.” Louis has never seen the coach this calm and genuine. Not that the guy isn’t a good guy - he really is - he just never shows his sentimental side. It makes Louis feel valued and a bit uncomfortable at the same time.

“I want to make sure I stay fit while I am in this thing,” Louis motions towards the cast on his foot. “So I thought James could help me maybe. And then I have to do physical therapy when I get this off, so I was also thinking James could help me with that as well. Or I could go to an official physical therapy place.” Louis fumbles with his fingers as he speaks, hating how vulnerable and useless he feels.

He really needs to get back onto the pitch.

“No, Louis. James needs to focus on keeping the other players fit. I want you to go see Harry now, and then you two can set up times to work together and get yourself back into shape when you get the boot off. I don’t really want you to go somewhere else, I think it’s better for everyone if you stay with our staff.” At Louis’ skeptical look, coach says, “He’s great, Louis. I don’t think there’s anyone better than him. Sure, he’s pretty young, but he’s perfect for the job.”

Louis nods and shakes the coach’s hand before hobbling off to the physiotherapy room. Harry is the only one in the room when Louis walks in and he’s in the middle of cleaning off one of the ten tables.

“Um, hi,” Louis greets awkwardly. Harry whips around at the sound of another person’s voice.

“Oh, hey. What’s up?” He throws the towel into a white bucket labeled “DIRTY” before leaning back against the table he had just cleaned.

“Coach wanted me to talk to you about staying in shape while I’m in this stupid cast and then some physical therapy when I’m out of it.” Louis props himself up on his crutches and looks down at his feet. This is all a bit embarrassing, really. He has never liked asking for help for anything, but now there is no way he’d get better without it.

“Yeah, of course. We can do some exercises that don’t involve both legs for the next few weeks if you’re up for that,” Harry offers. At Louis’ nod he continues, “How many times are you willing or able to come in a week? Or you could just text me on the days you want to workout since I’m not here every day. Whatever works best for you.” Harry’s smile is kind and encouraging and Louis is sure Harry could tell how much he doesn’t want to be having this conversation.

“How about Mondays and Wednesdays, those would be best for me. Can you do that?” Louis glances up to meet his gaze.

“Yeah, that’s perfect. Does three o’clock sound good? We can end whenever you feel like it.”

\- - -

The next week, Louis shows up for his physical therapy with Harry a bit early. He’d had Zayn drive him and didn’t want to be late so he told Zayn he needed to be there before three.

He makes his way into the physiotherapy room where Harry is getting out some weird rubber bands and a few other tools.

Once Louis makes his presence known, Harry sets him right to work. He shows him weird exercises to do with the bands and has him practise in front of him so he could correct him if needs be. (Louis is thoroughly flustered afterwards. _It’s not his fault the band kept snapping against his leg._ )

When Louis finally gets the hang of it, Harry is moving him on to the next thing. The electric bike. He props Louis’ injured leg up on the bar and has him pedal with one foot and move the handlebars back and forth.

While he does this, Harry sits on a chair in front of him and shoots question after question at him. He asks things from his childhood and his family to his past relationships and his friends. Louis made a deal that whatever question Harry asks, he would have to answer it himself as well.

An hour and twenty minutes later, Louis has had enough. He is sweaty and exhausted and his foot is starting to bother him.

“Thank you Harry, for helping me. I appreciate it. Even though you have terrible taste in football teams.” Louis smiles at him as he grabs his things and starts on his way towards the door. He stops just as he is exiting to wink at Harry. The boy just smirks back at him.

\- - -

At his next doctor’s appointment, they do another x-ray of his leg to make sure that he is healing properly - he is. The doctor puts him back in a cast and sends him on his way. In two weeks, he will be able to walk on the cast, but for now, he is stuck trying to manoeuvre with his crutches.

He goes to physical therapy with Harry the next day, Wednesday, and tells him the news. He’s sure it isn’t even a thing to be excited about, but Harry looks really happy for him.

“That’s great, Lou. Just let it rest some more and we’ll keep doing what we’re doing and you’ll be back on the pitch in no time.” Harry guides him onto the bike and has him warm up on there for the day.

Louis climbs up on the table after he finishes with the bike and starts doing his “special exercises” that Harry showed him.

“So, um, Harry,” Louis tries to get his attention from where he is getting things out of a cabinet. “The boys are coming over to mine on Friday for some pizza and films, and like, I was wondering if you’d maybe, want to come?” Louis feels his face heat up instantly, knowing that he must look like an idiot with the way he is fumbling over everything.

However, Harry’s face lights up at that. “Yeah, of course, that sounds awesome. Just, um, text me your address?”

“Well, I’d need your phone number to do that, wouldn’t I?” Louis pulls out his phone with a smug look on his face.

“Right. Sorry. Forgot.” Harry takes the phone and taps his number into it before handing it back to Louis.

“Great, it will be fun, I promise.” Louis smiles at the boy as he hops off the table to move across the room to the mini set of steps. If he bends over a bit farther than normal when he’s stretching, no one has to know but him.

\- - -

Louis is past the point of denying the fact that Harry is attractive. Anyone with eyes can tell that the boy is beautiful. So when he tells his friends that he invited Harry along, and they begin to tease him - _having a crush on your physiotherapist, scandalous!_ \- he simply shrugs and carries on sipping his beer.

And when Harry knocks at his door, the teasing did not relent.

They manage to keep it at a minimum, only hinting at Louis’ crush, for the rest of the night. Louis, Harry and Liam are curled up on the sofa and Niall and Zayn are cuddled together on the chair as they watch film after film.

Throughout the night, Harry seems to be scooting closer to Louis at every opportunity. (Louis pretends not to notice.) At least until their legs begin to brush. Rather than saying anything, Louis just nods at their knees and winks, before turning back to the screen. Harry doesn’t flinch.

\- - -

The next Monday comes more quickly than Louis would have liked. He is exhausted from hanging out with the boys all weekend. He doesn’t feel like working out at all. Louis tells Harry as much, but Harry just laughs at him.

“We don’t have to work out today if you’re not feeling like it. You can go home and rest,” Harry offers.

“No, I don’t - I mean, can we just, like, hang out here? Um, if you want to, of course. Or if you, like, have something else - “

“I’d _love_ to spend time with you Louis. All you have to do is ask.” Harry looks at him expectantly.

Louis sighs before asking, “Harry do you want to hang out instead of exercise today?”

“Of course, Louis.” Harry grins at him and Louis holds off a smile of his own for all of six seconds.

 

“You were _not_ in a school musical. No way. I don’t believe it.” Harry laughs at Louis’ hurt look.

“I’ll have you know, Styles. I’m the best damn Danny there ever was.” Louis reaches over and shoves Harry’s shoulder at his responding giggle.

Louis doesn’t really mind that Harry doesn’t believe him, because he looks so _beautiful_ when he laughs. Louis can’t really help but stare at Harry’s lips that stretch across his smile. They are so plump and pink and he vaguely wonders if they feel as smooth as they look.

He doesn’t notice he’s been caught staring until he registers that Harry’s lips are not pulled into a grin anymore, but instead are open and his breathing is a bit quicker. Louis glances up to find Harry watching his mouth as well. The tension in the room has increased and Louis feels like he might explode if he doesn’t do anything soon.

So he does the only rational thing that goes through his head. He kisses him. Just goes right for it and smashes his lips against Harry’s.

Harry freezes up in shock before he totally and completely melts into the kiss. He moves closer and slides his hand up to rest on Louis’ cheek. He’s warm and soft and sweet and _absolutely perfect_. Louis never wants to stop kissing this boy. He wants to be wrapped up in his arms forever.

But that isn’t realistic, and they both need to breathe. When they pull back, Harry is staring at him in amazement and Louis just stares back for a second.

“What - what was that?” Harry asks, a smile slowly forming.

“That was a kiss, Harry,” Louis teases. At Harry’s disapproving look, Louis sighs, “I don’t know, it just felt right. I, um, I really like you, Harry.”

“Really?” Harry’s eyebrows knit together in confusion and Louis nods, hanging his head. “Well, I like you too, Louis.”

“So does that mean you’ll go on a date with me? This Friday?” Louis hopes he doesn’t look to desperate, but he knows that he probably does. He just can’t help it. Harry is so beautiful and kind and intelligent, it’s hard not to like him.

“All you had to do was ask.”

\- - -

Harry picks Louis up on Friday evening since Louis can’t drive. They decide on a nice Italian restaurant and settle into a table in the back. Although Louis isn’t super famous, there are still people that might recognize him and he doesn’t want to be approached or photographed while on a proper date with _Harry_.

They sit in silence while they look at the menu, but it isn’t uncomfortable. Once they come to a decision, they wave over their waitress and order before resuming the conversation from the car.

“Okay, but Cristiano Ronaldo is like mega-hot.” Harry declares as he rests his elbows on the table, leaning closer to Louis.

“Yeah, sure he’s great, but Beckham is the hottest football player to ever exist. No one beats him.” Louis follows suit, and leans closer to Harry, levelling him with a gaze.

“You beat him.”

And that. Well.

“What? Nope. No way.”

“Yes. You’re proper fit, Lou. I’d pick you over David any day.” The look in Harry’s eyes is genuine, as if he _actually_ thinks that Louis is better than _David fucking Beckham_. No.

“You’re insane.”

So Louis ends the conversation there, because no.

He doesn’t even know if Harry wants a relationship to come out of this, but Louis can tell he likes him at least a little bit. But that’s okay because Louis likes him a little bit too.

 

They opt out of dessert, both of them too stuffed with pasta to even think about eating anything else. Instead, they walk - well Louis waddles with his crutches - back to the car and set off in the direction of Louis’ house.

Rather than talking, they listen to the radio at a low volume and enjoy the peace and quiet.

It’s nice. Being with Harry, it’s so easy. Harry is so patient and kind and doesn’t expect anything from Louis, which is nice for a change. He’s had enough guys trying to get into his pants for their fifteen seconds of fame, thank you very much. Harry is so unlike any person Louis has ever met before, and although it’s scary dating again since his last relationship ended so badly - there was cheating and fighting and a lot of alcohol involved - but he isn’t running away from it all. In fact, he’s running towards it with open arms.

Harry helps him out of the car when they arrive and then walks him up the front pathway.

“Thank you, Harry, for um, going out with me tonight. I had a good time.” Louis stares down at the ugly cast on his foot.

“No, thank you. For asking me. I’m glad you had fun, because I did too. We should do it again some time.” Louis glances up at Harry’s bright grin and smiles back at him.

Before Louis can turn around and awkwardly open the door, Harry leans in and presses a chaste kiss to his lips. When Louis opens his eyes again, Harry is already walking backwards towards the driveway, calling out “Goodnight Louis,” as he goes.

\- - -

Louis finally is able to walk on the boot and he cannot be stopped. He spends the whole day shopping and walking around the town. He’s been cooped up for too long now. As he’s perusing the bread aisle, his phone buzzes in his pocket. He pulls it out and grins when he sees Harry’s name on the screen. It’s been two days since he’d last seen him, and coming up on two weeks since their first date. But he’ll be seeing him again tomorrow (he’s pretending not to be as excited as he really is).

_**hey lou! how did the dr appt go??? xx** _

He told Harry about the appointment at their last session - or whatever you want to call it - and he knows how excited Louis’ been to actually start walking again.

**_great! it’s healing really well! no more crutches!! x_ **

Louis stops in the confectionary aisle for a second and contemplates buying a chocolate bar before snatching one off the shelf and walking towards the checkout with his head held high. _Screw what James would say, he’s fucking injured for fuck’s sake._

As he’s swiping his card he feels his phone vibrate in his pocket. It buzzes again two seconds later. His fingers itch to open the message, but he holds off until he’s safely in his car.

**yay! now we can start the fun exercises ;)**

**by fun exercises i mean more involved things with the rubber bands i promise**

Louis rolls his eyes at Harry’s text messages, the boy is weird, honestly. But Louis secretly likes it. Well, not so secretly, he supposes, seeing as just about everyone he knows is aware of his not-so-subtle-crush his physiotherapist. _Whatever_.

\- - -

Louis shows up to the match on Thursday with Zayn. It’s his first one since _the incident that everyone is too scared to bring up._

His friends are consciously avoiding talking about the Liverpool match and Louis’ injury, except for asking how he’s doing. He’s sure they’re just trying not to make him feel bad but it’s not really working. He misses playing football. Feels like he’s not done anything important since he’s been on the pitch. It’s something he’s discussed with them before, when he was drunk at Niall and Zayn’s house one night, bared his soul to them, really. They know how hard it is for him to do _nothing_ all day.

When he feels himself slowly start to deflate, sitting on the sideline with the subs, he knows how critical it is for him to get better quickly.

“I’m, um, I’m gonna run to the loo. I’ll be back in a sec,” Louis tells Zayn, already up and walking away.

He’s sure he looks pathetic, his foot in a cast and his face defeated. He doesn’t notice Harry heading towards him, though. So when Harry pulls him into a hug and murmurs a deep “Hello,” in his ear, he nearly jumps out of his shoes.

“Oh, sorry. Hey,” he says and tries to smile back at him, but he just _can’t_.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” Harry’s face contorts into one of concern, his eyebrows knitting together.

And Louis cannot resist Harry. He cannot just tell him that he’s “fine” because he isn’t and Harry _would know_ and even if he didn’t, the guilt would eat Louis alive anyway.

Louis leads Harry into one of the changing rooms and tells him. Tells him everything that’s going through his head. Harry listens to the whole thing.

When he’s done, Harry tugs him into a tight hug, before convincing him to go back to his house. Because being here and watching this match is just too much right now. He’s made it this long without dealing with this problem, but now he feels weighed down by it all.

They spend the rest of the night curled up on Harry’s sofa, cuddling and kissing. And by the time Louis falls asleep on Harry’s chest, he’s forgotten all about his dodgy leg and professional football.

\- - -

The next morning he wakes up the same way he fell asleep. On Harry’s chest. When he glances up, Harry’s already awake, looking at him.

“Good morning,” Louis pauses to yawn. “Were you just watching me sleep?”

“No, um, what?” Harry looks incredibly sheepish for someone who was pointedly not watching Louis sleep just now.

“You were watching me. This is all some kind of ploy where you switch teams so you can take me out of the match, get me to like you, lure me in, and then kill me, isn’t it?”

Harry grins down at him, his hand running along Louis’ back as he says, “Damn it, you caught me.”

“Hmm, I knew I should have been suspicious of you. You’re way out of my league.” Louis teases and digs his fingers into Harry’s sides. He squirms around trying to free himself, but Louis won’t relent. Harry lashes around and then all of a sudden, Louis is flat on his back on the floor with Harry on top of him.

Louis laughs and Harry smiles before he jumps off of him, a serious look on his face. 

“Shit, Louis, are you okay? I didn’t hit your leg, did I? I’m so sorry,” he fusses as he checks Louis for any external damage that might have done, but Louis just kicks him onto his back with his good foot.

Louis crawls towards Harry and climbs into his lap, one leg on either side of his hips. “Stop worrying, I’m fine. However, I _am_ very hungry. Will you please make me some breakfast?” He gives him his sweetest smile.

Harry only grumbles a little before he kisses Louis and walks to the kitchen.

\- - -

“Louis, what are we?” Harry asks on a Wednesday session. The building is completely empty, so when Louis freezes at the question, everything is silent.

“Well, I don’t know. I was, um, just going with it, I guess? What do you want us to be?” Louis sets the rubber bands onto the shelf beneath the table and sits up straight. He tentatively looks up at Harry, suddenly feeling very exposed without a shirt on.

“I’m - I want to be boyfriends. Louis, will you be my boyfriend? Do you want that?” Harry steps closer to the table, his eyes shining hopefully. There’s a bit of hesitance behind his words and Louis’ heart clenches at that.

“Yeah, yes, of course,” Louis answers before grabbing hold of Harry’s waistband and pulling him right up against the table. Louis grins before kissing Harry firm and sweet. His lips are soft against Louis’. “I’d love to be your boyfriend.”

Louis leans in and presses their lips together again. And again. And then again until they’re both breathing hard. Harry’s eyes are heavily lidded and his lips are bright red.

In the blink of an eye, he is up on the bench with Louis, crawling over him and holding himself up with his arms on either side of Louis. He bends down to kiss into his mouth, licking and nipping at him. Their hands fumble as they try to grab onto whatever they can, pulling each other closer.

Louis’ bottoms feel tighter as the kiss grows more heated. Harry presses his hips down against Louis’ and they both moan. He starts to grind down on him and Louis can feel how hard Harry is.

“Fuck, Louis,” Harry catches Louis’ lip between his teeth and pulls. “Can I suck you off?”

Louis groans and nods eagerly. “Like you even have to ask, fuck.”

He kisses and sucks at Louis’ neck, leaving a love bite, as he trails his way down Louis’ chest, then stomach. Nuzzling his face into his tummy, Harry runs his hands over his sides. He presses a kiss to each hipbone, before sitting back on his heels.

He slides off Louis’ trackies - being careful of his injured leg - and tosses them to the floor, bending down and nosing at Louis’ crotch. The flimsy fabric of his briefs is the only thing separating Louis’ dick from Harry’s mouth.

“Harry,” Louis moans and grabs hold of Harry’s hair and tugs him up to kiss him before pushing him back down.

Harry smirks as he pulls his briefs off and drops those as well. Louis is now bare in front of him and he’s looking up and down his body with a hungry stare. He wraps his fist around the base and strokes him a few times before leaning down. Harry teasingly licks the tip until Louis whines and subtly shifts his hips.

He licks a stripe from his balls to the head, wrapping his lips around the tip. Harry swirls his tongue and works his hand along the rest of him, causing Louis to groan and grasp the edges of the bed.

He wastes no time in taking Louis’ whole cock into his mouth, sucking and licking as he goes. He bobs his head and works his hand along what doesn’t make it into his mouth before pulling off altogether. His mouth is hot and wet and _sinful_ , and the way he’s watching Louis with his lips wrapped around his dick is really doing it for Louis.

Harry ducks down and mouths at Louis’ balls, making him groan and buck up into Harry’s fist. Louis tangles his fingers in Harry’s hair using it as something to hold onto.

Louis’ breath catches in his throat when Harry takes him back in again. He traces his tongue over the underside, before sinking down even further. He keeps going until his nose is pressed to Louis’ tummy.

“Oh my God, Harry. _Fuck_.”

Harry swallows around him a few times before pulling off, only to take a deep breath before sliding back down again.

Louis can feel the heat building in his stomach and knows he’s close. His toes start to curl and he throws his head back.

“Harry, Harry, Harry. I’m close. I’m - fuck, fuck, fuck,” Louis moans as Harry holds his hips down and keeps sucking. He comes with a shout and a groan, tugging on Harry’s hair. Harry moans on his dick before swallowing his come. He presses his lips to the head before climbing up Louis’ body and kissing his lips.

Louis kisses back as he comes down, his breathing shaky.

“That was, wow,” Louis breathes out, running a hand through his hair. He leans up and moulds his mouth to Harry’s, as he sticks his hand down the front of his trousers.

Harry’s hot and solid in his hand and Louis loves it. Loves that he is the one getting this reaction out of Harry. That Harry’s all hot and bothered because of _him_. It doesn’t take more than five tugs before Harry is coming into Louis’ palm.

Louis waits until Harry opens his eyes to lick up the mess on his hand, moaning at the taste.

“You’re going to kill me, Louis Tomlinson.”

\- - -

“Liam, grab some more beers while you’re in there!” Niall hollers through the doorway. The five of them have made it a _thing_ to hang out at Louis’ house at least once a week. Niall claims he goes into withdrawal if he doesn’t see his boys if he doesn’t see them every few days.

Liam cradles five bottles of beers in his arms and a bag of crisps in his mouth as he walks back into the living room. He dumps everything on the table before grabbing a bottle and curling up on sofa. He digs his feet under Louis’ thigh, and Louis would say something along the lines of “get your disgusting feet away from me, you twat” but Louis has missed his friends so he’ll deal with Liam’s smelly feet for a night.

“So are you guys, like, officially dating or what?” Niall asks. Everyone in the room pauses mid sip and stares at him, Zayn a little more endeared than the rest but that’s nothing different. Niall just shrugs in response.

“Yeah, Niall, we are. Thank you for asking,” Louis plays it off like he’s annoyed but they know him too well. He’s getting too easy to read. Looks like he needs new friends.

 

They end up ordering pizza and watching DVDs until three in the morning. Liam and Zayn are sound asleep when Harry switches off the tv.

“We should wake them up, shouldn’t we?” Harry asks as he climbs to his feet, stretching his back. A sliver of skin is visible where his shirt rides up and Louis blatantly stares at it. He knows Harry sees him when he laughs under his breath and pulls Louis up with him.

“No, it’s alright. You guys can stay the night, I wouldn’t want you driving this late,” Louis turns to Niall. “You know where the blankets are, go ahead and make yourselves at home.” Niall nods in response before gently detaching himself from Zayn.

Harry just watches, feeling slightly awkward. He plays with his fingers while Louis settles Liam onto the sofa. Once he’s finished, Harry helps him take their rubbish to the kitchen.

“You’re alright with staying here, right? Like, sleeping with me? Or you could have my bed and I’ll - “

“No, Louis, it’s fine. Really, I’m totally okay with it. In fact, I would be _honoured_ to spoon you to sleep.” Harry runs his hands over Louis’ arms before pulling away and walking towards his bedroom.

Louis blushes and follows him, whispering “Goodnight,” to Niall as he goes.

They strip down silently, Harry folding his clothes into a neat pile while Louis tosses his own towards the closet. There’s a beat of awkwardness as they both stand there in their underwear looking at each other. A smile breaks out on Louis’ face, Harry’s following soon after. They climb into the bed together, slipping under the covers.

Harry shuffles closer and uncertainly wraps his arm around Louis’ waist, and when he doesn’t object, Harry tugs him back against his chest.

“I’ll have you know that I have been told I’m the world’s best cuddler. You should feel privileged to be able to fall asleep in my arms,” Harry whispers, tightening his grip on Louis.

“We’ll just have to see about that, Styles. Goodnight,” he murmurs as he presses back into Harry, smiling when Harry kisses his cheek.

“Goodnight, Lou.”

\- - -

The next time they go out for lunch, there is a small group of photographers outside of the restaurant. When they were walking in, they had gotten a few pictures, but it seems those were not enough.

Louis personally doesn’t see why it’s such a big deal that he’s taking a pretty boy out to lunch occasionally. However, he seems to keep forgetting that Harry works for the team. Louis isn’t even sure that he and Harry are _allowed_ to be dating. Would Harry technically be in a position of trust over Louis? Or are they considered co-workers? If anything at all?

Louis didn’t even begin to think about all of that until he was face to face with a camera, with his hand wound around Harry’s.

He’s secretly hoping that Coach doesn’t get wind of this.

He has half a mind to ask Harry when they’re sitting at a table in the back.

“I’m not sure, actually. I don’t think it will be a problem, as long as we’re appropriate and professional about it.” Harry’s brows furrow, pondering it as well.

“By appropriate and professional I’m assuming you mean no more blowjobs in the physiotherapy room then, huh?” Louis smirks across the table where Harry blushes a bright red.

“Nope. None of that. Never.”

 

Louis wakes up the next morning with a text message from Niall containing a link to an article titled “Tomlinson’s Hot Date” and nothing to be said from Coach. He reads the article as he sips his tea, a smug look on his face.

\- - -

Louis has to cancel a Monday session to instead go to an appointment with his doctor once again. Harry wishes him luck and tells him to text him when he’s done.

Niall drives him to the hospital and stays the whole time. They do another set of x-rays, and when the doctor comes into the room, Louis is shaking from the nerves. He’s been doing extremely well working with Harry and it hasn’t been giving him a lot of trouble, so he thinks he’s healing, but he can never be sure.

“Hello Mr. Tomlinson. Your x-rays are looking fantastic and it’s about time for that cast to come off.” The doctor comes closer to the table. “You can keep the support boot and crutches, just in case it’s not feeling well one day, but you should be able to walk on it now. Keep doing physical therapy, just be careful not to overwork yourself, because that could instead just make it worse. That should be it, we’ll see you in a month for your last check-up. Be safe.”

And with that he’s gone, and so is the huge weight on Louis’ chest.

\- - -

_**done @ the dr. no more cast!!!** _

Louis sends a text to Harry first, then sends similar ones to his friends and mother. As for walking, it feels really weird, and his muscles are a bit weak. He’s sure that a few more weeks working with Harry and he’ll be good as new. Niall takes him to get ice cream to celebrate, even though neither of them should be eating ice cream in the middle of a season.

He’s finishing up his cone when Harry texts him back.

_**great! come over tonite and we can celebrate :) xx** _

_**  
ok sounds good x** _

Louis is excited, he really is. Just. He’s never been to Harry’s house before and he’s also slightly nervous. Now that he isn’t in a cast he’s fully capable of moving around, including moving around in a bed. He has no idea whether Harry wants to celebrate by having sex or if he’s reading into this a bit too much.

It’s not that he doesn’t want to have sex with Harry, because he really does. He’s just not ready yet. He doesn’t want to mess things up with Harry. Every other time he’d had a crush on someone, they waited until he had sex with them before they told him they weren’t interested in a real relationship. He can’t help but be afraid of that, even though Harry doesn’t seem the type to do that.

\- - -

Harry pulls him onto the sofa when he arrives. His flat is small and cozy, everything is in the same room except his bedroom and the bathroom. Louis loves it.

He lies down across the sofa, his feet on Harry’s lap.

“So no more cast? Ever? You’re a free man?” Harry asks, rubbing Louis’ ankle gently.

“No more cast. I’m so glad I can actually start working out again.” Louis lets his eyes slip closed, a small smile on his face.

“Yeah, more exercises to help too. You’ve just gotta be careful. If you do too much it will only make it worse.” Harry’s hand trails up his shin to his knee, then back down again.

“I know, I know. Everyone keeps telling me that.” Louis mumbles as he sits up, crawling over to Harry and straddling his lap. “Let’s not talk about it anymore, yeah?”

Louis kisses him, Harry’s lips soft and warm beneath his. He pulls back and rests his head against Harry’s before going in for another. He kisses Harry deeply, running his tongue over the roof of his mouth and over Harry’s tongue. He tastes sweet and it makes Louis crave more.

He grinds down in Harry’s lap, feeling him harden in his trousers beneath him. Harry groans and pushes up. Louis tangles his hands in Harry’s hair and pulls his head back, exposing his throat. He trails kisses down the line of his jaw and neck to his collarbone where he sucks a dark mark into his skin. Harry’s breath hitches when he bites down and if Louis wasn’t paying attention he would have missed his quiet whimper.

“Bedroom. Now. Please,” Louis whispers into Harry’s ear, nipping at it before he climbs off the sofa and walks into the hallway. He can vaguely hear Harry following behind him, his footsteps much louder than Louis’.

He catches up to him in the doorway and wraps his arms around Louis’ waist. He guides him into the room and onto the bed, immediately following. Harry brackets his arms around his head and leans down to kiss him again. He rolls his hips down repeatedly, loving the feel of Louis against him.

Harry leans up and slides his top over his head, throwing it across the room. Louis stares at his bare chest, all smooth muscles and tanned skin. When he glances back up at Harry’s face, he’s looking back at him with a smirk. He pulls Louis’ top up as well, struggling to get it off. They take a moment just to touch and feel, running their hands across chests, arms, and stomachs.

Louis’ hand finds its way into Harry’s hair again and he tugs him back down. He kisses his mouth, swallowing the sounds Harry’s making.

“Harry,” Louis breathes, “Naked. Now.”

Harry complies immediately, standing up and sliding his jeans and briefs right off. Louis is mesmerized by Harry’s body, so lean and long. While Louis eyes Harry, he takes the chance to take the rest of Louis’ clothes off as well.

When he climbs back onto the bed, he kisses Louis’ tummy and chest, sucking marks as he goes. He licks along the line of Louis’ throat before pressing his lips to his once again.

“Lou, roll over. On your stomach. Please,” Harry whispers in his ear, biting at it before sitting back and letting Louis shakily settle on his stomach.

Harry runs his hands down Louis’ back and grabs his bum, squeezing the flesh. Louis moans and ruts his hips down into the sheets, trying to get more friction on his dick.

Harry presses kisses to his spine, trailing down until he’s level with Louis’ bum.

Louis can feel Harry’s hot breath against his skin and his body tenses with anticipation. He hasn’t been eaten out in a long time, but he _loves_ it. Loves the way he gets lost in it, loses all control.

The first swipe of Harry’s tongue is enough to make him come right then. He doesn’t though. There’s no way he would ruin this by coming too early. Harry’s mouth is absolutely sinful and he’s dreamt of this, thought about this too many times to count.

“ _Fuck_ , Harry,” Louis groans when Harry presses down harder. He circles his tongue around Louis’ hole and it flutters beneath him.

Harry’s grip is so tight on his hips, there will be bruises when he wakes up in the morning, he knows. The thought of pushing down on them and remembering this moment causes his eyes to slip shut and another moan to leave his lips.

Harry’s pointing his tongue now, the tip of it entering him and he cries out, his hips rocking back onto Harry’s tongue before rolling down into the sheets. Harry pulls back, Louis whining instantly, before he kisses around Louis’ hole. 

“Harry. Harry, please,” Louis begs, reaching behind himself to slide his hand into Harry’s hair, shoving his face back down.

Harry groans and goes back to flicking his tongue lightly across his hole, then pushing in deeply. He alternates between each, randomly switching and it’s _so much_ but also _not enough_ and Louis needs to come. Louis shifts his thighs farther apart even more and Harry spreads his cheeks wider, licking into him.

The sounds Louis is making are obscene. He’s whining and moaning and writhing on the sheets and Harry can’t get enough.

He continues licking and sucking at his hole, while he reaches down beneath himself and wraps a fist around his dick. He’s so close to coming already, just from the taste of him and the sounds he’s making.

Louis can feel the heat rushing to his stomach. He tries to warn Harry but he can’t even form proper words besides “fuck” and “Harry”. His body stiffens as he comes all over the sheets with a cry of Harry’s name, before he slumps forward, whining at the friction on his spent dick.

Harry’s so turned on he thinks he might explode. Might die from how hot Louis is making him feel. He kneels in between Louis’ thighs and jerks his cock furiously. He’s so close, can feel it building up. Louis shifts his hips backwards and bumps against Harry’s hand and Harry loses it. He comes across Louis’ bum and back, groaning as he works himself through it.

He falls onto his side next to Louis. When he comes down, Louis is smiling at him, his eyes glassy and sleep heavy. He smiles back and tugs Louis closer, tucking him under his chin before letting his own eyes slip closed.

\- - -

Louis comes to physical therapy with a spring in his step. He’s smiling brightly when he walks in the room, kissing Harry as he passes.

“You seem happy,” Harry comments, eyeing Louis a bit suspiciously.

“I am happy, Harry.” Louis stops in front of the bike. “Do I still have to ride this thing or?”

“Yes, you’ll use it to warm up before stretching, and then we’ll start some new exercises.” Harry smiles cheerily at Louis’ frown. As he heads toward the cabinet for the rubber bands, he pats Louis’ bum. “Come on now, get started.”

Louis grunts as he climbs on. It hurts at first, his muscles still sore from not using them. However, he starts to get used to the pain and then even thrives on it. He uses it to push himself just a bit harder. He _will_ get better. He will do anything to be able to get back on the pitch.

It turns out that these new “exercises” Harry mentioned are actually just ways to torture Louis. He’s sure of it.

“Harry, please, it fucking burns. It’s not supposed to burn. Wait, is it supposed to burn?” Louis pants, trying to keep up with the treadmill. He’s not moving very fast, just a nice, even speed-walk, but it _burns_. The treadmill is slightly inclined, making him use more muscles in his calves and ankles and he’s way too sore and weak for this.

He’s just about to shut it off and quit when Harry tells him to stop.

“That was good, Lou. It’s supposed to be hard, all physical therapy is. We’re working your muscles so they get back to their normal strength, but that will take some time. You haven’t been using them for three months, so it will be crap at first. But you’re doing great.” Harry rubs his back, guiding him over to the rack of towels.

Louis grabs one off the top shelf, turning to Harry as he wipes his head. When he’s finished he throws it into the basket, sighs, and then falls forward into Harry’s chest.

“This fucking sucks.” Louis’ voice is muffled in Harry’s shoulder.

Just then another voice speaks, “Tomlinson, get off him and come with me, please.”

Louis _would_ follow the coach, _but_ he’s busy _dying_. His face is so hot and if he wasn’t covered in sweat it would be more obvious, but as it is, it just looks like he’s been working extra hard. Perfect.

Harry squeezes his shoulders before nudging him towards where the coach just disappeared and Louis feels dread settle in his gut. _Shit_ , if Coach knows what’s going on between them, does that mean he’s about to get in trouble? Is he taking Louis to his office to yell at him? Cut his contract? _Is Louis getting kicked off the team?_

Louis drops down in the chair, his hands shaking.

“Tomlinson, get it together. I don’t care about you and Harry. You guys can do whatever you want as long as you’re not making me or the team look bad.”

“Thank you.” It’s a huge relief. He’s not getting kicked off the team, then. He hopes.

“That’s not what I wanted to talk to you about, though.” Coach says, and Louis nods, signalling for him to continue.

“The Man City match is coming up in just over a month. I know this match is important for you, as it is for every player. So I wanted to let you know that if you’re ready by then, you can start that match. It’s going to be big. But you have to be completely ready, and by that I mean Harry needs to confirm that with me. Understand?”

“Yes, absolutely. Thank you, sir.” Louis grins at the man, excitement bubbling in his stomach.

He has to play this match.

\- - -

It’s two weeks later that Louis brings it up to Harry.

“No way, Lou. You’re not ready yet. I’m sorry, but we still have a lot of work to do.” Harry looks at him sadly, his brows furrowed.

“Harry, you don’t understand. I need to play again. Why can’t I start practising with the team yet?” Louis complains. He’s clearly upset about it and Harry doesn’t want to make it worse.

“Look Louis, if you start doing something you’re not ready for then you’re only going to hurt yourself more. We’ll keep exercising and then when the time comes we’ll see if you’re ready. Alright?” Harry tries to compromise. He wants to pull Louis into a hug right now, but he can see that that isn’t a good idea.

“Whatever. This is bullshit.” Louis storms out of the room, leaving Harry to put away the tools in the cabinet alone.

He’s not sure what to do. He knows how important football is to Louis. But he also knows that Louis can’t run on his left leg yet, and if he tries to go out and play he’s just going to get injured again.

\- - -

Louis sneaks into the training grounds on a Thursday. He knows Harry isn’t here today, he’s busy visiting his mum, so he takes advantage of the empty physiotherapy room.

He starts off with the bike, of course. Then stretches out his muscles. And when he’s sure he’s ready, he climbs onto the treadmill and bumps up the speed a bit. He settles into a slow jog, the burn in his leg fueling him to keep going. He won’t stop until it doesn’t burn anymore.

 

It becomes a _thing_ , Louis supposes. He goes to his sessions with Harry on Monday and Wednesday, but then he also comes in on Tuesday and Thursday, because Harry doesn’t work those days, and no one else so much as walks by the physiotherapy room. He’s got it all to himself.

He’s been doing this for two weeks now, going on the third, and everything is just fine. He’s a bit sore when he gets home, but that doesn’t matter if he’s going to get to play quicker.

Harry suspects nothing when he sees him on Wednesday. Louis had spent the whole night working out here. He feels fine now, pumped up on the adrenaline. He feels _great_ , actually.

They part ways in the car park, kissing briefly before they both climb into their respective cars.

 

The next day, Louis walks in, right before training is about to start, making sure that no one sees him as he heads into the physiotherapy room.

He gets out a water bottle and a towel, doing his warm ups before he steps onto the treadmill.

Louis is full on running on the treadmill, breathing hard and sweaty, when his ankle gives beneath him and he goes flying. He slams down onto the track and slides right off, landing right on his back. He yelps in pain and shock, rolling onto his side.

He doesn’t move an inch, afraid of finding another injury. He’s on the ground for a full minute, not sure exactly what to do, when he hears another pair of footsteps walk into the room, before stopping, then starting up much faster towards him.

“Shit, Louis. What did you do? Are you alright?” Harry pushes him over, trying to get a good look at him. Louis knows he’s in trouble. The look of disappointment and betrayal on Harry’s face is enough to make him want to disappear.

“I’m so sorry, Harry. I didn’t - I was fine. It was working. I don’t - “

“It’s alright Lou, we’ll talk about it later. First though, are you hurt?” Harry’s looking up and down his body, checking for injuries. But his back and his ego are the only things that hurt.

“Just my back from hitting the ground. My ankle is fine.” He runs his hands over his face, so ashamed. He’s gone and made himself look like some kind of obsessed arsehole that thinks he knows more than anyone else. He just - he thought it would work. He thought that if he put in a little more effort, then he would be back on the pitch more quickly.

Clearly he’s an idiot.

“Alright, well I’ll get you some ice. I want you to wear the support boot for the next twenty-four hours though. Just in case, okay?” Harry asks, resting his hand on Louis’ cheek. Louis nods, not making eye contact.

Harry grabs an ice pack and helps Louis up onto one of the tables, before climbing on himself. It’s a bit of a squeeze, but they manage.

“How long?” Harry asks. At Louis’ confused expression, he continues. “How long have you been sneaking in here behind my back?”

“Like, two weeks, maybe.” Louis’ voice is small and remorseful.

“Why did you do that, Louis? I mean, I know _why_ , I guess, but I just don’t understand why you didn’t just ask me if you could do a little more. Or why you lied to me.”

“Harry, I’m really sorry. I just thought that if I pushed myself a little harder it would go faster. I felt like at that pace I was never going to get back on the pitch. I took things into my own hands when I shouldn’t have. I’m sorry,” Louis says, tucking his head into the crook of Harry’s neck, pressing a soft kiss there.

“Lou, it’s been four months - only four - since your injury. You’re doing amazingly well. Some people don’t even start running until after five, maybe six. You’re on the right track. And if you let me keep working with you - and only working with me - then you’ll definitely be able to finish the season.” Harry rubs Louis’ shoulder, kissing the top of his head.

They stay there, in silence, for thirty minutes before they decide to head home.

\- - -

Harry lets him jog on the treadmill after that. He also has him do harder exercises that make his muscles sore the next day. They meet every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday now and work out for at least an hour and at most two.

Harry also lets him kiss him a lot more during their sessions. They usually spend the last ten minutes making out on one of the table, but hey when there’s an empty room full of tables, what else are they going to do? Unfortunately, Harry does not allow any shedding of clothes during these times. Just in case someone walks in.

Louis is totally okay with that.

After that awkward time at his house when he and Harry were getting heated on the sofa and Niall walked in, he swore off doing anything inappropriate in a room without the door shut and locked. He also regrets giving Niall a spare key to his house so that he wouldn’t have to let him in every time he came over. But that’s alright because Niall promised to call or text before he comes over ever again. (Harry thinks they scarred him, but Louis knows Niall’s seen worse. He’s sure of it.)

So they keep working and Louis progressively feels more defeated each time he gets a glimpse of training or catches Math Of The Day on the telly. He doesn’t say anything, though. He doesn’t want anyone to pity him or feel guilty about it. Just because he’s injured, doesn’t mean he’s a charity case. No way.

On a Friday session, Harry finally lets him try to run. It’s been nearly five months since his injury and Harry thinks he’s ready now. To run. Not to practice. But Louis takes what he can get. Harry’s the professional so what he says, goes.

“Oi! You’ve got him runnin’ then, huh?” a loud, familiar voice cuts into their conversation. Louis looks to the door to find Niall, who has what seems to be the whole team trailing behind him.

Louis pauses the treadmill and hops off.

“Yes I do. He’s doing brilliantly, by the way.” Harry smiles at him all big and proud and Louis can’t help but smile back at him.

“The Tommo’s coming back soon, yeah? ‘s he gonna play with us?” The whole team crowds into the physiotherapy room while Niall talks to Harry.

Everyone climbs up on the tables and messes with stuff. Louis is extremely embarrassed. He doesn’t want the whole team to come in and watch him while he’s weak. He doesn’t want them to stare at him as if he’s some kind of science experiment. He wants to get better in private. With Harry.

“I don’t know. Harry says I might be able to finish off the season with you guys but that all depends on whether or not he thinks I’m ready to play,” Louis says, attempting to subtly step towards Harry. Niall smirks at the movement.

“So it’s Harry that hasn’t cleared you then? Well, we’re all behind ya Lou. Get better and then come play with us.” Niall grins before pulling Louis in for a hug. He tucks his face into his shoulder and whispers, “‘m proud of you, Louis.”

Niall pats his back twice, turning towards the large group of men in the room. “Alright lads, let’s leave him be. He’s got healing to do.” And with that, they all file out of the door with hollers of “Get better!” and “See you soon!”.

\- - -

The boys come over on a Saturday, bringing food and beer with them. They plan to do their usual “thing” and watch films and eat all night as always.

When Harry’s in the kitchen, grabbing another round of drinks, Niall turns towards him from where he’s cuddled up into Zayn’s chest.

“So, have you fucked him yet?”

Louis chokes on the crisp in his mouth. Liam reaches over and pats him on the back, sending Niall a glare.

“What?” Louis croaks, holding a hand to his throat.

“Oh, come on, Lou. You’ve never withheld this kind of information before.” Niall grins wickedly.

“Um, I - no. No, Niall. Now stop talking about it, he’s coming back,” Louis whispers, narrowing his eyes at the blonde.

Harry comes back with his hands full of beers. Louis finds himself staring a bit too hard at Harry’s long slim fingers and huge palms. His mouth waters at the sight of his fingers wrapped around multiple beer bottles.

And this - this is getting to be a bit too much. Louis looks away abruptly and Harry only gives him a weird look before sliding into the seat next to him, their thighs pressed together.

Halfway through the movie Louis glances over and sees Niall and Zayn very, um, feverishly making out. He snaps his head back towards the tv, trying to delete the image from his memory, but to no avail. It will forever be burned into the backs of his eyelids.

Harry nudges him as he stares at the screen wide-eyed. Louis cautiously looks to Harry. He’s grinning at him when he digs his elbow into his ribs and nods towards the couple. Louis shakes his head before turning away. Only his face is trapped by Harry’s hand gripping his chin.

Harry pulls him forward and kisses him hard. He licks at Louis’ lips until he parts them, slipping it inside. Louis kisses him back, hands tangled in his hair. Harry rests his hands at Louis’ waist. Harry runs his tongue along the underside of Louis’ and the roof of his mouth. Just as Louis is clambering into his lap, a throat clears.

“Excuse me. I’m _not_ fifth-wheeling it here. Watch the film you twats.” Liam glares at the four of them and they all stare back guiltily.

Simultaneously they all apologise and turn back towards the screen. Louis glances to Harry and sees the smirk on his face before digging his elbow into the boy’s rib cage, hard.

\- - -

The following Wednesday, Louis is finishing up his jog on the treadmill when Niall and Liam come into the room. They’re without team this time, so Louis doesn’t mind.

“Hello lads,” Louis greets them, breathless as he turns off the machine. He gulps down the last half of his water bottle before haphazardly tossing it towards the recycling bin.

“Hey Lou,” Niall walks up to him and pats him on the back.

Louis eyes him suspiciously before he cuts the act, “Alright, what do you want?”

Harry comes over to them from where he was folding the towels. Wrapping his arm around Louis’ shoulders. “You feeling alright? No pain?”

He looks down at the black ankle brace wrapped snugly around his ankle before looking back at Harry, “It doesn’t hurt it just feels a little weak ‘s all.”

“Great!” Niall interrupts, drawing everyone’s attention to himself. “The Man City match is next week and we need ya back on the team.”

Louis’ eyes go wide. _The Match_ is next week. All of a sudden he’s vibrating with excitement. The biggest match of the season is coming up. He’s going to get to start on the pitch at the match against Manchester City next week. He looks up at Niall with the biggest grin on his face, when Harry opens his mouth.

“I don’t think he should play just yet. His ankle isn’t strong enough and if he so much as steps on it wrong, he’ll be in trouble.” Harry speaks slowly and cautiously, afraid to upset anyone.

Louis’ face drops and he feels his lip begin to tremble. _No, no crying._ “What? You can’t - I have to play, Harry. You _heard_ him, they need me.”

His sadness is overcome with anger and he tears himself away from Harry.

“Why won’t you let me play? Why won’t you let me do anything? I know my body. I am ready to play, Harry. Fucking sign the papers so I can be done with this shit.” Louis narrows his eyes at Harry challengingly. He only feels a little bad about putting Harry on the spot like this, but he _can’t just do this_. No way.

“Louis - “ But he’s already gone, out the door pulling Niall and Liam behind him. Liam sends him a sympathetic glance as they round the corner.

He doesn’t know what to do. Louis is so pissed off with him and he’s also sad. But then again his ankle is too weak to play and if he let him and then Louis got hurt, Harry would never forgive himself.

Harry runs his hands over his face and into his hair as he sighs. He sets about cleaning everything up to distract himself. When he climbs into bed that night without hearing anything from Louis, an uneasy feeling settles in his gut.

\- - -

Louis is trying to get his boot on over the brace when Niall plops down on the bench next to him. The changing room is loud and wild, the other players talking and laughing as they get ready for training.

“You sure this is a good idea? Harry said - “

“I _know_ what Harry said, Niall.” Louis snaps, then softer he says, “But I’m doing this. I’m ready, okay?”

Niall nods and pats his back, before pulling him up onto his feet. Liam walks over seconds later and they all head to the pitch together.

They’ve already run two warm-up laps and done three drills before coach notices it. “Tomlinson! Get over here!” Louis freezes from where he’s passing the ball to Niall.

He jogs over to the bench and stops in front of the man, hands on his hips.

“What are you doing? Harry never cleared you to come back to practice.” Coach eyes him suspiciously.

“I’m ready, sir. I promise, I am.” Louis nods, doing his best to look convincing.

“You can do the drills but nothing more, no tackles, not contact - until I’ve spoken to Harry. Got it?” Louis agrees and then takes off back to the pitch, continuing the exercise as if nothing happened. A few of the players, including Niall and Liam, are watching him curiously, but he ignores their stares.

They work on penalty kicks and crossing the ball for most of the session. However, Coach lets them have a proper kickabout for the last twenty minutes. Louis takes that as his cue to get off the pitch. Coach tells him he can go shower now, rather than waiting for them to finish. He gathers his stuff before he heads back to the building.

On his way to the locker room he sees Harry and instantly lights up, a smile on his face. He’s just about to say something when Harry looks at him, then looks back down to his feet and continues walking.

Louis’ face drops when he recalls what happened a few days ago. He hadn’t seen Harry since then, but he feels overcome with guilt at seeing his face. Harry looked hurt and upset and Louis’ chest tightens at the thought of making Harry feel that way.  

Louis goes home that night and curls up on his sofa until it’s time for bed. He finally looks at his phone when he’s lying in bed. Ignoring the messages from his friends, he types out a message to Harry. He clears it and retypes it six times before finally hitting send.

_**goodnight harry x** _

\- - -

There’s no reply when he wakes up and he’s sure he just ruined something incredible. He shouldn’t have said that, shouldn’t have done that. Not to Harry, he doesn’t deserve that. He was only trying to help and care for Louis. And Louis totally fucked it all up.

Louis gets to training early, hoping to run into the curly-haired man. He needs to see Harry, to talk to him. He cannot and will not apologise over text message. He has to say it to Harry’s face. He searches the entire building, but the physiotherapy room is empty and there’s no sign of him elsewhere. Louis only lets himself sulk for five minutes before he goes into the changing room.

The session is particularly grueling and Louis feels sore all over. He’s about to go home when Coach stops him and says, “Remember Tomlinson, I can’t let you play if you don’t have Harry’s approval. The match is on Saturday so you’d better get it sorted.” Louis nods before leaving the room.

He props his foot up with an ice pack and orders Chinese take-out. He falls asleep on the sofa and wakes up with an achy back and a wet foot.

\- - -

Saturday comes quickly and Louis doesn’t know what to do. Harry hasn’t answered any of his text messages since their fight - all three of them - and he hasn’t been able to catch him before or after training.

Louis decides to still go to the match to at least support the boys, also his family is coming to this one. He brings his kit as well, just in case Coach actually lets him play.

As he’s pulling into the car park, he contemplates trying to contact Harry again and settles on another text message.

_**are you coming?** _

Louis walks into the building, heading straight for the coach’s office. He goes through what he’s going to say as he walks, hoping for the best. He stops by his locker to put his stuff away and just as he turns around, Harry steps out of the office. Louis catches his gaze, but Harry’s face is blank. He only pauses for a second before continuing to leave.

“Harry, wait!” Louis calls after him, making to chase after him.

However, Coach walks out of his office before he can take more than two steps. “Tomlinson, come here.”

Louis stops and stares at Harry’s retreating back, his shoulders deflating, before he spins around and slips into the office.

“Harry was just telling me that you’re doing excellently and definitely ready to get back on the pitch. Looks like you’re starting in the biggest match of the season. Congratulations, Louis,” Coach pats him on the shoulder before pointing him towards the door. “Now, go get ready. You’ve got a team to beat.”

Niall and Liam are waiting at his locker when he comes out. Liam’s brows are furrowed as he looks at Louis with sad eyes.

“We ran into Harry. He said you’re going to play today. He also said to tell you good luck.” Liam tries to look excited but he knows that Louis would rather hear it from Harry himself. But Harry isn’t talking to him at the moment.

Louis sighs, tangling his fingers in his hair. “I really fucked it up this time.” He sits on the bench with his head in his hands.

Harry is way too nice for someone like Louis anyway. He doesn’t deserve to have to deal with all of Louis’ crap.

“Lou, come on, Harry really likes you, I can tell. If you apologise and you really mean it, he will forgive you. Seriously, he’s like the sweetest person you’ve ever been with,” Niall reassures him, rubbing his back.

“That’s the thing, he _won’t_ talk to me. I’ve tried. Why do I have to be such a dickhead? He _hates_ me now.”

Louis shakes off their replies, instead putting on all of his kit. Liam and Niall sigh and turn to their own lockers, following Louis’ lead.

Warming up consists of running a lap, stretching, and then doing some shooting drills. Louis is buzzing with adrenaline and nerves. He wasn’t able to participate in any kind of contact practices, so this will be his first time _actually playing football_ since his injury. It’s safe to say that he’s terrified.

He knows that if he falls or even steps on it wrong, he’ll hurt his ankle more and may not be able to play for a lot longer than five months.

When the referee signals for the players to get ready, Louis’ heart nearly stops. He takes one last sip of his water before he jogs to his position, Liam following close behind. Liam is playing left forward to his right forward, so he at least won’t be alone on the pitch.

He knows his mum and sisters are watching somewhere in the stands, but he wasn’t able to see them beforehand. He also knows that Harry might be watching somewhere, and all he wants to do is prove himself. Show Harry that he really _can_ do this.

Harry was amazing at helping him get through this. Louis is confident that he never would have made it through all of this if it weren’t for him.

\- - -

Louis feels _fantastic_. The turf beneath his feet, the wind in his hair, and the crowd chanting is enough to send him into shock. He fucking _loves_ football.

The first ten minutes is just a game of keeping possession. City starts with the ball, and rather than trying to score right away, they settle on passing back and forth and not letting United get a foot on the ball.

Liam is the one to break the pattern. He sneaks up behind the player with the ball and taps the ball to the side, taking off with it as soon as he’s got it under control. He manages to get all the way up to the goal box when he’s cornered by three defenders and loses the ball.

It’s a very nerve-wracking match, both teams working hard to defend their goals. As for fouls, players are dropping like flies. None are seriously injured, just knocked down. Both teams have their fair share of free kicks.

Five minutes before half-time, Liam breaks away with the ball at his feet. Louis is just one step behind him, on the other side of the pitch. His weak ankle slows him down a bit so he’s not able to get to the goal box in time for a pass, but Liam doesn’t need it. He makes a clear shot to the upper right corner of the net and the crowd roars.

Every player runs at Liam, tackling him to the ground. They set up quickly for the restart, chests a bit lighter with relief. They’ve got the lead, but not by enough to let their guards down.

Louis takes a moment to get his breath back, and to stretch out his ankle, pointing and flexing, loosening up the muscle. He glances over to the bench, and sees Harry standing next to it, arms folded and leaning against the side of the perspex shelter. He’s watching Louis with a weird expression that Louis can’t quite work out.

He’s just about to wave at him when the whistle blows, signalling half time. Louis has an internal battle with himself before he walks back towards where the team is huddling together in a small celebration of a first half lead. He glances back and gives Harry an apologetic look, hoping that he gets it.

\- - -

Louis steps back on the pitch for the second half, feeling more determined and less nervous. He can see a huge sign with “GO LOU!” written on it, which must be where his family is sitting. He grins at that and then gets his attention back on the match.

Clearly, the break was enough to get Manchester City back in fighting form. They come on strong and fast, working the ball between them. However, they cannot get past the defence. Their footwork will not help them win the match, unfortunately for them.

The defender clears the ball up the pitch, right in front of Louis. He dribbles the ball towards the goal managing to get around two defenders before he crosses it to Liam. He dodges the last player and passes it right back to Louis, who takes a shot on goal. The ball hits the crossbar before bouncing back onto the ground where the keeper dives on top of it. The crowd groans and Liam calls to him from the other side of the pitch, “Good shot, Lou.”

It’s not until ten minutes later that another shot is taken. This time, however, it is the opposing team shooting at their goal. Luckily, the ball flies over the bar and into the crowd, so the keeper takes the kick, clearing it straight to Liam.

Liam uses footwork to get around the first defender, but the second gives him trouble and kicks the ball out of his reach. Louis takes the chance and darts towards where the ball is rolling out in the open and carries it further up the pitch. The keeper comes out, challenging him, and Louis rears back and kicks it hard. The ball soars through the air right over the keeper’s head and hits the post before it flies into the back of the net.

Louis yells out at the shock of scoring but also from the slight pain in his ankle. He drops down to the ground and tucks his head between his knees. The crowd is still cheering, but Liam and a couple of players from both teams are circled around him.

“Lou, you alright?” Liam asks, trying to get Louis to look at him.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine. Just hurts a bit. I think I need to come off the pitch?” But Harry is already there, breaking into the circle to get to him.

“Louis? Louis are you okay? What happened?” Harry’s already pulling off his boot.

“I’m fine, Harry. I just need a break. Get me off the pitch, yeah?” Louis is pulled off the ground by Harry and Liam. Harry wraps his arm around his shoulder, assisting him to the sideline. Louis gives a thumbs up behind Harry’s head and the crowd cheers again.

Once they settle onto the grass and the match starts back up again - there’s ten minutes to go and they better hold the other team back or this will be very upsetting - Harry takes off the rest of his gear, he sends Niall inside to grab some ice.

“Harry I - “ Louis starts, but Harry cuts him off.

“Later, alright?” Harry finally looks him in the eye, and Louis sighs in relief when he finds no resentment or hurt behind it. Louis nods just as Niall comes back.

“Keep ice on it now, and when you get home prop it up and ice it again. Take it easy and you should be fine.” And with that, Harry’s gone, walking back into the building.

Niall stays with Louis on the ground, making sure the ice stays on the sore part and rubbing Louis’ back.

When the final whistle sounds and the match is over they both stand and yell along with the whole stadium. They won. Against City.

Twenty minutes later, after everyone’s congratulated every other player, they make their way to the changing room. Louis, however, goes a different direction.

He wanders into the physiotherapy room, where he finds Harry chatting with a couple of members of the staff from Man City. Louis is surprised before he remembers that these people are his old colleagues. Harry stops talking when he notices Louis in the doorway.

“Oh, hey. Guys, this is Louis. Louis, these are my friends from Manchester City. Although you might not want to get too close, they might have infectious diseases or something,” Harry teases, grinning when Louis flushes. He greets Harry’s friends before they decide to head back out.

Harry watches as they walk out, waiting until they're completely out of sight before he turns to Louis. "So, how is your ankle? Are you feeling alright?"

Louis ignores the question and takes a deep breath before he begins.

“Look Harry, I’m really sorry. I didn’t mean to snap at you like that. I was so mean and you didn’t - don’t - deserve that at all. I’m so sorry,” Louis apologizes, fumbling with his fingers.

“It’s alright. I get it, you were upset and you had every right to be.” Louis tries to interrupt but Harry covers his mouth with a hand. “I was worried, I guess. Like, I knew you were ready but I couldn’t help but think, ‘what if he hurt himself again?’ and that would be my fault. Because I let you play before you were fully healed. And when you went down tonight, my heart stopped. I thought that you might be seriously injured and that - that was awful. I think, what I’m trying to say is that I only did it because I care about you, and I hope that you’ll forgive me.” Harry removes his hand when he finishes, sliding it down to rest on Louis’ shoulder.

“Harry,” Louis starts, but nothing else comes out. Instead he grabs both sides of Harry’s head and pulls him into a bruising kiss. When he runs out of oxygen he pulls back and leans his forehead against Harry’s. He pulls Louis into his chest, holding him there with both hands around his waist.

“I am so sorry, Harry. I made you feel bad, because I was upset at myself for getting injured in the first place. It was all my fault and I snapped at you. I feel like a right twat. I hope _you_ will forgive _me_.” Louis’ thumb runs along Harry’s bottom lip, trailing down to his chin before settling on his jaw, the stubble there itching at his finger.

“I forgive you, Louis. And I’m glad that you’re okay. We’re still, like, boyfriends right?” Harry asks, a bright blush rising on his cheeks.

“Yeah, yeah we’re still boyfriends.” Louis kisses his lips again.

“Speaking of boyfriends, there’s a team party tonight, we’re celebrating the win against _those losers_ ,” Louis squeaks when Harry digs his fingers into his sides. “Ow! Anyway, there’s a party - one of those formal ones not, like, a house party or anything - but I want you to go with me. Do you want to?”

Harry presses their lips together, and mumbles “yes” into Louis’ mouth. Louis fights back a grin and tries to kiss him back. When Harry kisses him again, harder this time, and whispers, “Missed you so much, Lou,” into his ear, Louis decides that maybe they should just skip the party altogether. He’d much rather spend the night with his physiotherapist instead anyway.

 

 


End file.
